She dragged me back in time, to a much, much older memory — a memory that had escaped her for a long while. I was surprised to realize that she had only put these memories, the old and the fresh, together recently. After I was here. That was why the lines had slipped through her careful control despite the fact that they were one of the most precious of her secrets — because of the urgency of her discovery. In this blurry early memory, Melanie sat in her father’s lap with the same album — not so tattered then — open in her hands. Her hands were tiny, her fingers stubby. It was very strange to
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